


The Necessities of Practice for the Heart and Feet

by Zaikyo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dancing, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaikyo/pseuds/Zaikyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where better to be than pressed close against the angel you're in love with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Necessities of Practice for the Heart and Feet

**Author's Note:**

> For a tumblr prompt on dancing. Also, a slight nod to the fandom-borne idea that Sam ships Destiel, which I am fully prepared to accept as my headcanon.

Sam Winchester was many things.

Psychic ex blood junkie with a health kick and an adolescent hair thing going, that much Dean was aware.

But cunning? Manipulative? Deceiving?

Not his Sammy. Absolutely _not._

 

So then how exactly had they ended up where they were?

 

" _It's a shooting class. You'll love it. Take Cas._ "

 

_Take Cas._

 

He should've known.

 

"Will you two be partnering today?"

Dean had looked at Cas. "Uh I guess, yeah."

 

_He_ really _should've known._

 

Now he was here, arms wound awkwardly around a trench coat-less angel, doing everything in his power not to look directly into those wondering eyes as they barely moved other than a little swaying. The woman at the front of the room called out various numbers, directing movements and positions, but Dean hardly heard her at all.

Cas was looking at him, had been since they'd been placed in the first position, Dean's hand on the center of Cas' waist, the other at his neck. And no matter where Dean looked or what he mumbled self consciously, Cas kept his gaze locked.

 

Most unwavering angel in the garrison, Dean was sure.

 

The other couples around them seemed happy, comfortable in their partner's embraces and generally enjoying the experience. Dean wished beyond anything it were like that between he and Cas, not just in a dance class but in everything. It wasn't that he was afraid to speak his feelings to the angel, but rather no, it was. He was terrified beyond all terror of the likely consequence that Castiel had no similar feelings, whatsoever. Which would be fine really, if Dean didn't think that confessing his attraction to an unwilling angel would be a surefire way to lose him completely. Moments like this though, didn't really help the hunter's vow of silence. He felt awkward and exposed under that watery stare, like he might as well have his thoughts painted over his forehead.

They remained like that, barely moving and almost silent, the entire rest of the class. After their hour was up, couples began to file away in smiling droves. Dean could finally let go of Cas, only to have another hand rest over his shoulder. He turned to find the short woman from the front of the studio staring at him with some range of sympathy and worry.

"You two aren't getting it," she was saying.

"You might want to stay and practice the combinations a bit more so as not to be behind next class."

And Dean hadn't at all planned to come back, lest it was to bury his brother's remains under the floorboards. But their instructor had looked dead at Castiel when she'd spoken, and he had nodded obediently as if not staying was an impossible idea, completely unheard of.

She'd smiled and left, informing them the night guard would lock up when they'd finished. So _again,_ Dean was here, arms draped over Cas' torso, eyes anywhere but where they should be.

"You know we don't have to do this, right?" he tried.

Castiel shook his head. "Our instructor feels we need more practice."

" _Of course she does._ "

Dean was pretty sure everyone was against him at this point.

Maybe if they made a little progress, Cas would agree to them going home. Dean mused over this for a moment, eventually deciding it was worth the shot. He tried to recall some of the things that woman had said while he was busy sweating his brain silly at the proximity between he Cas earlier. Something about footing. Right, Dean was the lead, he had to lead. Or something.

He took a step forward and Castiel followed suit. Easy enough. Another one in the opposite direction and the same took place. Dean tightened his grip around Castiel's waist and pulled him a breath closer, silently wondering if that was going too far. But Cas melted into the position like it was the most natural thing, and so Dean continued, leading them in slow steps until they were a rhythmic breeze across the studio floor, spinning and swaying and _laughing_ of all things. Cas looked amazingly young then, like boy in his most basic moment of happiness. Dean mirrored that youth, age and inhibitions falling from his features with every graceful step. He felt like he could do anything, be anything here with Cas. And maybe that was dangerous. He didn't care.

Dean felt a daring impulse creep upon him then as he spun Castiel again. He really shouldn't show off, they'd barely mastered any of the other combinations as it was. But it's such a tempting thought, and in his bloom of childlike zeal Dean felt that was a good enough reason to go for it. Another turn and Dean moved his hand at Castiel's neck, down to between his shoulders and without any warning, dipped him over. Cas' eyes widened at the sudden shift in gravity, his weight falling in surrender to Dean's strong grip. They stayed in that position for collecting seconds, eyes locked in some hypnotic battle, and Dean began to feel less and less like he ever wanted to let go.

He dipped the angel further, and further still until Castiel's back rested silently against the wood paneling of the dance floor, his arms still wound tightly around Dean's neck. They looked at each other then, long and pensive, neither daring to move and yet somehow seemingly getting closer and closer to one another until their breathing space was a shared ground. Dean had never seen his angel so close, so wide-eyed and mystical. He couldn't help but obey the pull of gravity as he crushed his lips to Castiel's, violent in its suddenness and yet still, ethereally tender. And Cas reciprocated, pulling Dean impossibly flush against his body and drawing his lips in. Dean gripped at the angel's hair and he fought to get inside Cas, tongue snaking through their clash of lips to find warm within the other's mouth. Castiel let out a sound, low and gravely and fucking unfair and Dean felt himself grow heavy against Cas' stomach. He broke away to look at his angel, eyes blown open, hair a feathered mess, Dean's fingers still laced within it.

"I think," he began slowly. "We should practice some more. At home."

Castiel nodded, something like a shy smile playing on his face as Dean stood and pulled him by the hand, practically dragging him from the studio and into his car where he floored it, never actually letting go of that hand the entire drive.

 

When they got back to the motel, Dean would kick Sam the fuck out. This was his doing anyway. Despite it though, Dean imagined that after today, he wouldn't mind dancing so much. So long as it was with _his_ angel.


End file.
